The Word Cloud

    
Dramoo was a weaver of the bridge between life and illusion, the bridge upon which all souls pass between this world and the next.

He was a good weaver, although sometimes he would confuse the threads between reality and illusion and the pattern would become erratic but he would quickly find the right thread again.

Dramoo was also a romantic soul.

He had carved a ring from the centre of his heart to give to the Maid of the Seven Seas when next she came visiting but for now, he kept the ring loosely tied about his kneck.

Tonight was the night of the Dreamers’ Dance where Dramoo hoped he would see the Maid. 
If he did, he would ask her to honour him with the Night Waltz and would give her the ring which hung about his neck. 

However before the dance, Dramoo still had a long shift at the Laughing Loom with many patterns to design and weave. 

He was both excited and nervous thinking about his forthcoming encounter with the Maid of the Seven Seas. 

She was as fresh as a spring blue sky and smelt as sweet.
She was both intresting and intriguing and whenever she was near his heart sang a new song.

When he watched her he saw she walked on waves of air and her hair moved liked the long tendrills of light that sung through every atom of her being.

He felt being with her as natural as the songs his heart sang whenever they were near.
His heart yearned to touch hers and knowing the same was true was what Dramoo needed to find out.

His plans had been well thought out but there was one small vital piece missing; the ring had disappeared from around his neck.

Dramoo searched everywhere, he retraced all his steps but found nothing.
He looked in places where he knew he hadn’t been, just in case he might have been there and not remembered, but still he could not find the ring.

He had a ghastly feeling that he knew where the ring had gone and was trying to convince himself that it wasn’t possible. 

At that moment Hector, a messenger of the Master Weaver, came down to inquire why the Laughing Loom had been silent. 

Dramoo told him of the ring he had lost and how he had been searching but could not find it anywhere. 

Hector came to the same conclusion as Dramoo. 

The ring had fallen from Dramoo’s neck and been lost within the Weave.

“Oh dear, you are in trouble” Hector said.  “I could tell the Master but I know what he’ll say, so you might as well go and do it anyway before he notices.”

Dramoo looked at Hector, “What? What will I have to do?”

“Go into the Weave and retrieve the ring of course” replied Hector, as though the answer was as visible as the distress on Dramoo’s face.

Dramoo looked in horror towards the bridge then back at Hector.

“Go into the Weave?” he said, “but how will I find the ring and how will I find my way back again? The Weave is a very big place you know”.

“Of course I know” Hector replied.  “How you find the ring and how you get back here is something you’re going to have to figure out for yourself.  Know that it will only be a matter of time before the Master finds out what has happened.  I suggest you be on your way.”

Taking over from Dramoo, Hector sat down before the Laughing Loom and continued the Weave.

Dramoo stood upon the edge of the bridge and remembering where his last pattern was, placed himself within the Weave.

As he disappeared from the Weavers’ World, Hector looked to where Dramoo had been and said “Dream beautiful Dramoo and please return safely.”


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The kiss of the Black Wizard was like no other. 

It was terrifying, it was seductive, it was passionate and consuming. 

Afterwards it left the receiver with an emptiness and an ache that could not be filled until, once again, the taste of the Wizard’s kiss was upon their lips.

This gave the Black Wizard enormous power over the many who had fallen into his web of seduction.

Kings, princes, princesses, queens and scullery maids were all willing to do his bidding, if only to find relief from the aching emptiness which had consumed their lives from his first kiss.

The Black Wizard had come far from his days as an apprentice, not that long ago.

His master had died mysteriously.

Some said it was from a spell that had gone wrong, others that he had been poisoned from a drink laced with powdered dragon’s breath and still others thought that it had just been a common cold. 

The Black Wizard knew better. 

His master had died from an all consuming ache of emptiness, which captured his soul and erased any memories of love or peace, leaving madness his only relief. 

Of course it had been the Black Wizard himself who had caused his sad master’s demise, using the power of a ring he found one day while walking through the Attica forest.

At first he had thought it only a curiousity when he saw it lying on the ground, until he placed it on one of his fingers and began to realise the power it held within.

A power designed for love but when placed upon the wizards finger, had become twisted as it reflected the disturbed darkness within his soul.

After his masters death, it did not take the Black Wizard long to expand his web into the royal court where his master had once been held in high esteem.

Any opposition he faced was soon erased by his magic kiss wether it be through husband, wife or lover.

The only thing he cared for was control and power and it mattered not the cost extracted from those who fell under his spell.

Many lives had been ruined but no one would blame the Black Wizard for this misfourtune.

Mistaken love can be a blinding thing, especially to those who know not the true meaning of Love and its all giving and all taking embrace.


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Dramoo found his pattern easier than he thought.

The songs of Love guided him to where his pattern lay within the wonderful weave of Life and then it was a simple matter of transmuting the essence of his being within the confines of its reality and its illusion.

He had never experienced being a part of his own creation but soon found his way around until he found the rite thread and from there on it would be smooth sailing or so he thought.


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The Black Wizard had absolute control over the Royal family and their servants, in fact he had poisoned the soul of everyone within the Royal kingdom except for the Royal Fool Adyan.

The poor man was too stupid to fall under any spell and certainly not worth kisssing, as he contained no power at all within the kingdom and would forever be the servant of he who reigns.

Besides, he was an ugly bastard thought the Black Wizard as he walked out onto the top of one of the castles towers.

A dark storm was approaching, filled with savage forks of lightning that licked the ground with obscene menace.

The wizard smiled and began to laugh for he felt the power he could summon to be greater then the raw energy of the eternal elementals.

He was immortal, invincible.
Nothing could hurt him or defeat him.
He was scared of nothing and then he turned about and went inside before he got wet.

The dark, bruised purple black clouds, rolled heavily across the ground with a scream of wispy faces that could no longer contain the unfolding of their being.

The lightning burned in fiery streaks across the storms bloated body and the stabbing rain erupted in savage fury as the Black Wizard sat at his table discussing sinister plans with his shadow.

Why?

Because he was just a very nasty person at heart, that’s why they called him black not brindle or cream or muave as that fool Adyan called him all the time.

But what can you expect from an idiot who can’t even tell you what day of the week it was much less the colour of a colour.

First though he needed to find out what other powers this ring posessed, he was getting rather tired of having to kiss people all the time, except when the pleasure took him.

The only person who could remotely have any answers to what he needed to know, was a old mad man called Pook who lived up in the Fairyway Mountains.

It looked cold up there in those mountains and the journey wasn’t going to be an easy one.

It was at  times like these that the Black Wizard wished he’d studied the art of body transferance a little more closely, because whenever he tried it he always ended up in places he didn’t wan’t to be in. 


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Pook was also called the Father of the Mountain Dasies and as he sat talking to his petaled children, he saw a wizard flying through the air towards him, this is a sad man he thought.

The Black Wizard was using an old broom he’d stolen from a defenceless witch many years ago and was shakily trying to guide it to a safe landing upon the ground.

He almost made it but the broom was just as frightened of landing as he was and they crashed with an undignified thump.

The Black Wizard quickly picked himself up from the ground, brushed himself off, straightened his hat and gave the broom a swift kick for the landing and turned towards Pook the mad man.

He didn’t know why, but for some reason this old loony frightened him. which wasn’t a good thing.

In the future he’d have to do something about it but for now he questioned the old man about the ring.

Where does it come from?

Who made it and what else can it do?

The old man refused to say a word until the Black Wizard let him wear the ring, so he just rolled around amongst the tickling daisies until the wizard finally gave in and let the old mad man put the ring upon his finger.

Pook began to kiss the ring and ran off through the dasies showing them all what a lovely thing it was.

The Black Wizard stood up and shouted for him to come back but the Father of the Mountain Daisies was lost in the passion of Love for his children.

The exasperated wizard finally found the mad man making daisy chains on the other side of the mountain and when he finally got close enough, he snatched the ring back off the old mad man and demanded some answers to his questions.

Pook giggled and stared into the joy of a daisies heart.

The Black wizard contemplated turning the old loony into fire wood and would have, except for the fact that that also was a spell that tended to backfire upon him.
Damn he wished he’d paid more attention to his studies.

The old mad man suddenly stopped giggling and looked at the Black Wizard with the clearest, sanest eyes he’d ever seen and said “The only true magic in this ring is in the heart of that who made it and no other can unlock its secrets, would you like a cup of tea?”

As the old man started giggling again in his mad, mad world, the Black Wizard who understood nothing the old man had said, turned around and stomped back to his broom crushing as many innocent daisies as he could along the way.

The old man was worse than the fool. He’d have to find out what other powers the ring held himself, the Black Wizard cursed darkly to himself as he flew shakily back to the castle.

When he arrived back at his room, he carried out his threat of burning the broom if it didn’t land safely and then he pulled out of his cuboards a whole bunch of secret ingredients and proceeded to experiment with them upon the ring.

All through the cold, dark night he experimented until finally the sun rose in all its glory heralding the brand new tapestry of another day.

The Black Wizard was exhausted and had not learnt a thing, the only power he could use from the ring was that of a kiss and nothing else would be granted.

Disappointed and sulky, he lay down on his cold bed and quickly fell into the comforting arms of the nightmares that lived in his dark, dark sleep.

When the Black Wizard woke, he was greeted with the saliva dribbling sight of the Royal Fool sitting upon the table before him.

“What do you wan’t?” the wizard gruffly asked as he rolled over onto his other side.

The fool started playing with one of the bells that hung from his hat and began to recite a nursery rhyme......

“There was a man with a heart so black,
darker than the night.
Who found a most powerful ring,
fashioned from the light.
He used its power in a selfish way
and now his darkness is here to stay.
What the dark man needs he lacks
and the owner of the ring now wants it back.”

The Black Wizard quickly opened his eyes and turned back towards the fool who was happily playing naughts and crosses with himself with some of the secret powdered ingredients upon the table.

“What did you say?” said the Wizard in disbeleif.

“I said, give me back my ring” replied the fool.

“What do you mean your ring?” asked the Wizard.

“I made it, it’s my ring”, the fool said simply.

“You’re a fool, what would you know about magical rings? You don’t even know the colour of my heart” said the Wizard.

“It’s black but it wasn’t always’ replied the fool.
“It used to be of a most beautiful blue until you found the ring and put it on, then your lust for power and your fear of yourself twisted your heart and soul. The ring only reflects what lies there and it was my mistake to have lost it and now I want it back, please”.

The Black Wizard tried to laugh bravely but it was obvious that he was scared, not because of what the fool had said but simply because the fool was no fool at all and was not scared of the Black Wizard.

 “I should have kissed you long ago, who are you?”

The fool hopped up off the table and walked slowly towards the wizard and said “Who I am and of my name is of no use to you wizard, I have very little time left and I want my ring back.”

The Black Wizard felt the ring on his finger softly pulsing as the fool walked towards him.
When he was close enough, the Black Wizard suddenly jumped forward, grabbed the fool and planted a kiss upon his lips.

The Black Wizard then laughed out loudly, thinking the fool was now in his power but he quickly realised that something was wrong.

His heart began to quicken in pace and his eyes swam with dizziness as he fell unconcious to the floor.

When he woke, the fool was gone and so was the ring.
He couldn’t remember who he was or where he was.

The spells he had cast through the magical kiss were lifted from all who were under them and they remembered nothing of the Black Wizard or his dangerous kisses.

They resumed their lives as though nothing had happened.

The wizard was found wandering aimlessly through the corridors of the castle and was promptly ejected through the servants entrance landing in a puddle of muddy water.

When he looked up he saw a little girl walking along the street talking to a daisy and he then remembered that he was invited to a cup of daisy tea up on the Fairyway Mountains.

As he picked himself out of the muddy puddle and started walking towards them, the old mad man Pook giggled and prepared to receive his guest.


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Dramoo rose up out of the weave and walked over to Hector who was happily operating the Laughing Loom.

“All is well?” asked Hector.

“All is well” replied Dramoo and took over the operation of the loom as Hector bade him farewell until the Dreamers Dance.
 
Dramoo thought of what a tale he would be able to tell the Maid of the Seven Seas when he told her of his adventure.

He thought tenderly of the ring he had made her, which was safely nestled in the pocket of his shimmering jacket.

“I hope she likes it” he thought and began to hum a few bars of a new song he was composing as he weaved another pattern of his Love into the bridge between the worlds of reality and illusion.
                                                
              
                                                   THE END
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